


The Breach

by RoundBrainySpecs



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Person of Interest (TV), Solomon Kane - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Doctor Who/Person of Interest Crossover, Gen, Solomon Kane - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoundBrainySpecs/pseuds/RoundBrainySpecs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While investigating a mysterious room in the subway tunnels, Reese disappears. The reappearance of an old friend with a new face and his blue box informs Finch of one thing: finding Reese is not going to be easy. Little does he know that finding Reese will be the easy part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Prologue Which is Actually an Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> While you needn't read it to make this story make sense, I highly recommend reading Haiza Tyri's "Close Encounters of the Tenth Kind" (which can be found here www.fanfictions/7876195/1/Close_Encounters_of_the_Tenth_Kind ) which is an absolutely beyond brilliant POI/Doctor Who crossover about which I could rave on and on about, and to which she most graciously consented to let my story be connected to; this story lies in the same universe as Haiza Tyri's, and her story about how Finch and Reese met the Doctor is what I accept as canon (and I cannot imagine it happening any other way). Please, if you have not read her story, do yourself a favour and read it (also, it will help you understand references I will be making to that story).

**2012**

**10:03 p.m.**

**Carter**

"Detective Carter, our mutual friend and I need your help."

"What's going on, Finch?"

"I need you to go to the nearest subway station; it's about two blocks away from your current location. When you get into the station, I'll give you further instructions."

"What sort of trouble?"

"I trust you're carrying your service weapon, Detective."

The phone went dead.

Carter let out a frustrated explosion of breath and ran the two blocks to the subway station.

When she reached the edge of the platform, Finch's voice popped back in her ear, "There is a service ledge to your left, follow that for fifty yards until you come to a gray door which should be ajar."

Carter did as she was instructed, sliding along the ledge as fast as she could. Finch hadn't turned off his phone, and she heard a gentle murmur from Finch consoling a quiet sobbing, but she was unable to hear the words. She started as she heard shots fired and the vague growl of Reese's quiet urgency.

Her pace became reckless and she hurtled along the ledge, "Finch! Are you and John alright?"

No answer, but some sort of dialogue commenced between Reese and Finch, nothing she could pick up clearly, but at least she knew they were alive enough to bicker.

She reached the door and flung herself through it, drawing her weapon, whispering with fierce concern, "Finch, what have you guys got yourselves mixed up in this time?"

"Time really is what all this is about, and it's of the essence, Detective. You should see us in a few moments."

Carter prowled forward, weapon at the ready.

The passage took a bend, and she peeked around the corner and at one of the strangest sights she'd ever seen. It was a large room, filled with panels and flashing buttons and screens showing gibberish. A young woman with red hair supported a battered Reese whose shoulder was bandaged and bloody, her and Reese's eyes gazing worriedly at another young man bent over a shape on the floor.

An absurd young man, dressed like a stereotypical professor in tweed jacket and bowtie, darted out from a large blue crate in the corner of the room with something in his hand, and the other long-nosed man moved away and revealed the figure on the floor. It was Finch, unconscious at best, his suit rumpled and torn, blood trickling from his ears, nose, and eyes.

Carter just stared.

"Have you found us, Detective?" Finch's voice came impossibly through her earpiece.

"Finch, I'm looking at you right now, and you're not doing much talking. What the hell is going on?"

"It's a little complicated, Detective, but I'm sure everything will be explained to you in due course."

Carter cursed the insane situation and Finch's evasiveness under her breath.

"Thank you, Detective."

"For what? Stickin' with you even though I'm not sure I'm not crazy?"

"For what you're about to do."

Carter's gun blazed as all hell broke loose.


	2. (Approximately) Six Hours Earlier

**2012**

**3:52 p.m.**

Reese was gone. Finch didn't know how. One minute Reese had been checking out a peculiar room off a subway tunnel, and the next there had been a crackling and a high pitched screech at which Finch had had to fish out his earpiece to save his eardrum. When he had a replaced it, there was no Reese on the other end.

He called Fusco.

"What?" The gruff detective answered, "You lose boy wonder again, and need me to track him down? What am I, your sheepdog?"

Finch ignored Fusco's sarcastic question but indulged briefly in his amusement in imagining Reese's face should he ever be called 'boy wonder' to it, glad for a moment to distract himself from the fear for his friend that all too often twisted his insides, and said in a more friendly tone than he had intended, "I'm inclined to think our mutual friend might object to the sobriquet associating him with Batman's sidekick, even if the greater insult has been given to Robin."

Instant regret for allowing himself to show amity to Fusco set in, sending his normal barriers of paranoia shooting up again and locking down. Amicability was not something he could not afford to cultivate with anyone (his and Reese's friendship notwithstanding) and especially not with the still-shifty Fusco, for both their sakes. Besides, this was no time for jokes; Reese was, potentially, in danger.

Fusco seemed to have picked up on Finch's unusual amity, and said in a discomfortingly familiar tone, "Yeah, thought you'd come to Robin's defense; probably part of your family, eh, Mr.  _Finch_?"

"As productive as a discussion of which fictional characters may or may not be related to me might be, there is a small matter that requires your attention," Finch returned frigidly.

Fusco sighed, "Ok, where's the last place you saw him?"


	3. Present Future Perfect

**2012**

**4:09 p.m.**

Finch sat, opened his laptop, and ordered some coffee. He sat in a small diner - not far from the subway where Reese had disappeared - loathe to simply wait at the Library so as to be all the closer if Fusco found something. The diner was small, a non-descript place that offered wi-fi complimentary to its olfactory joys of old coffee grounds and profuse grease - which hung so heavy in the stagnant air, Finch had almost felt his arteries clogging the moment he had limped through the door.

He smiled politely and thanked the nauseatingly cheerful young waitress when she delivered his coffee. He grimaced slightly as he swallowed; he had never cultivated a love for the beverage but he needed the caffeine after the long hours he had put in last night and, in this sort of diner, people were more likely to remember a man who ordered tea as an anomaly.

Finch froze, his coffee cup halfway to his lips for a second reluctant swallow, his eyes widening as a video chat window popped up on his screen, his own camera in the laptop turning on, and his own face peering back at him, but it wasn't him in his present state nor his current location; this self sat in the Library, a large purple bruise on his forehead and the Finch who sat in the diner could almost swear he could see crusted blood on the other's collar.

"Take note of the time," His other self ordered.

Finch put his coffee mug down and did so, instantly calculating how much time had elapsed and at what time his future (he could only assume) self would have taken to arrange the linking of the two computers for such purpose.

"Is the Doctor with you?" His present self asked, jumping to the obvious conclusion.

"Just departed," The other replied, nothing betrayed in his voice, just simple facts. "The next few hours will be… difficult. I can't render assistance from this side, but I'm going to need Detective Fusco. You can safely give him the next Number and I will be in contact with him shortly after."

"Is John safe?" Present Finch asked, unable to refrain from the question, despite considering the likelihood of his future self being able to answer to be unlikely; who, save perhaps The Doctor, knew what sort of danger this conversation could be putting the world in, let alone himself?

"'The eagle suffers little birds to sing,'" His other self replied cryptically, then reached over and terminated their anomalous conversation.

Finch identified the quote after searching Google - _Titus Andronicus, not_  one of his favorite plays - _-_  but any significance it might have to the current situation escaped him; if it had any significance – which he found likely, as otherwise his only other options to think were that someone had either drugged him again, or he had descended into spouting gibberish in the future – it had to with something in his relatively immediate future and its significance would make itself known eventually.

"What will I have been up to?" Finch murmured, and shut his laptop.

"Oh my gosh!" the waitress gushed, detaching herself from somewhere behind the counter and approaching him from behind, "Was that your twin brother? You two are  _so_  cute! But I always think twins are cute, no matter how old they are. You've got the better nose, but I think he's aged better."

Finch froze, just looking at her. How was one supposed to respond to something like that?  _Was_  one supposed to respond to something like that?


	4. The Grumbling Detective Goes Where He is Told

 

**2012**

**4:12 p.m.**

Fusco grumbled his way to the destination he had been given. He'd had to buy a new card to get into the subway after discovering his old one didn't have enough money on it, then spent a few moments dithering - trying not to be too obtrusive - before just giving up and deciding that if somebody stopped him he'd just show them his badge. Now he was sliding his girth as close to the wall of the subway tunnel as possible without becoming one with it - he knew about that third rail thing and had no intention to end up as crispy as the bacon he'd had that morning.

He found the door along the subway tunnel just where the g.p.s. location Finch had sent him showed it would be. A twisty tunnel led off from the door, finally rounding one of the corners he found the weirdest room he'd ever been in. It was lit by no light source Fusco had ever seen, the light seeming to emanate from everywhere and the whole place looked like some sort of control room for some alien ship. There were flashing lights, glowing screens that were simply sheets of dusty glass with glowing esoteric symbols running up them, and two chairs made out of what looked like stone, crystalline wires running up and down the backs and into panels under the arms.

"What in-" Fusco didn't even finish the sentence, it wasn't worth wondering about. Curiosity killed the cat, or the cop.

Reese wasn't here, that was the important fact, so Fusco pulled out his phone and called Finch.

He heard Finch's phone turn on, and didn't wait for any hellos from Finch, "Hey, I'm at the place. I don't see any sign of our guy. But there's this weird room, lotsa screens and flashing lights, the sorta place you'd get more outta than me."

"You may be right, for once, Detective," Said Finch's voice, both directly in Fusco's ear and a few yards away.

Fusco cursed in surprise, spinning about to face the crippled recluse, and said, "You know, you move real quiet for a guy with a limp."

Finch raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you're just not paying attention."

Fusco stashed his 'phone back in his jacket pocket. "Well, since you don't got anything for me to do, I'm going to go back to my real job; the one I get paid for."

"Oh, but I do have something for you to do, Detective."

Fusco hid his eagerness under a groan. "What now? You want me to walk your dog?"

"Bear does need a walk, incidentally. You'll find him in the somewhat apprehensive hands of a young man standing above the steps to the station." Finch pulled a folder out of his messenger bag and held it out to Fusco. "I would suggest Tompkins Square Park."

"Somebody in trouble?" Fusco asked, flipping through the folder.

"Take Bear for a walk, Detective. I'll be in touch."

Fusco recognized it for the dismissal it was and made his exit with the appropriate and requisite amount of grumbling.

A strange whooshing and scraping sound resounded down the winding corridor and Fusco almost turned back to see what it was, then shrugged. It was just a weird sound, probably something from one of the machines.

"If Mr. Glasses wanted me around, he woulda told me," Fusco muttered, but he wavered indecisively; as smart as Finch was, he had been slipped a doozy of a mickey by that identity thief chick and he wasn't exactly the sort of person who could hold his own in a fight. "Nah." Fusco finally decided. "He gave me someone to protect, an' he'll hardly thank me if somethin' happens to that girl. 'Course, Mr. Sunshine won't be too happy if somethin' happens to his boss again."

Fusco sighed. It wasn't easy, working for those two guys. But they were good guys, doing something right, doing something he wanted to be a part of even if it seemed like he got stuck in the middle in every situation. They saved innocent lives, and here was a chance for Detective Lionel Fusco (a dirty-handed cop) to help; besides, the professor knew the risks, the kid probably didn't even have a clue she could be in trouble.

He inevitably grumbled while following Finch's order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to one of the lovely ladies in the Facebook POI fangroup I am a part of for suggesting Tompkins Square Park, which will be featured in bigger part in another chapter of the story.


	5. Somewhere in Time and Space

 

The Doctor spun around the console, his natural vivaciousness invigorating his companions with enthusiasm. He clapped his hands, then pointed at Rory, "So, where do you want to go? It's got to be somewhere fun. Come on, Mr. Pond, hurry it up!"

"Um," Rory began, trying to decide whether to once again make a futile protestation regarding his surname or actually answer the question.

"Taking too long." The Doctor turned to Amy. "Amy?"

"What are my choices?"

"Everything! Make up a word. Any sort of word. It's bound to be some place in the universe. Oh, of course!" He snapped his fingers. "I've got it. Alta Forria."

"What's-?"

"Alta Forria! The world of the singing sun, or at least that's what the brochures say. Actually, it's not the sun that sings, but the sun emits a ray peculiar to only a few stars in the entire universe that, put simply, provokes sound waves from every molecule on the planet (though, of course, it's almost nothing like that, more like sunbeams reflecting off a mirror, but that's not really like it either). You get to have your own themesong there; never had a themesong before. Of course, you shouldn't stay there for very long, all your molecules vibrating; I'm told that if you stay there for too long eventually all your molecules separate in a burst of song. Really not a bad way to go, if you think about it."

"Okay, yeah, not feeling comfortable about this planet already," Rory said.

"But haven't you been there before?" Amy asked.

"Of course not. Well, I was there at night, actually, not really night. An eclipse; bit of a letdown, really. A competitive planet tried to lock Alta Forria's moon into a permanent eclipse from halfway across the galaxy. Never got back there somehow; so many things to do."

Without waiting for any assent from his companions, The Doctor flung more switches, spun dials, pushed buttons, and the TARDIS shuddered and quaked as usual when The Doctor changed direction. Then the TARDIS lurched and jerked, spilling its occupants across the floor.

The Doctor used the console to lever himself to his feet and steady himself as the TARDIS continued to shake and lurch, then his hands flicked across the console, pressing buttons, flipping levers, and doing all sorts of esoteric things.

"No, no, no, no! What are you doing?" The Doctor yelled at the TARDIS as she shivered and lurched apparently not in the way intended.

"Doctor, what is going on?" Amy yelled, holding onto the railing around the glass floor for dear life.

"She's changed course."

"What?" Rory shouted. "You mean the TARDIS is just, well, flying herself?"

"No," The Doctor said, glancing at a screen that turned his face a bit pale and his voice strained, "she appears to be reacting to some sort of interstitial helix created by contending currents in the Time Vortex. Common and completely normal."

 _Rule 1?_  Rory mouthed at Amy.

She nodded, rolling her eyes.

At that moment their surmise was utterly confirmed by the sounding of the cloister bell, its doomsday tone reverberating throughout the console room..

"You let us drift in the vicinity of this thing and didn't even notice?" Amy yelled. "Didn't even  _one_  of those instruments in the console tell you we were in danger?"

"I can't be bothered to notice every flashing button," The Doctor replied irritably.

"So we're getting sucked down a time-whirlpool thing, yeah?" Rory yelled.

"Well, yes, but - no, of course not, Rory!" Another particularly bad spot of turbulence nearly had The Doctor on the floor again, but he didn't look so worried. "She's got protocols for this sort of thing. She's rerouting us out of the Time Vortex. She's locking on to something, some fixed point, and towing us out, the clever girl."

The turbulence increased, then suddenly jerked to a standstill, throwing the occupants across the console-room's floor.

The Doctor sat up amidst the groans of his companions. "There, see? No danger. Everything perfectly under -"

He was cut off as the TARDIS took off again with an abrupt lurch.

"Doctor, what's happening?"

"I don't know! Once out of the influence of the interstitial helix, she should have gone back on course for Alta Forria." He made a lunge for the console and managed to latch onto it. "She's rerouting!"

After some more shakes and bumps, the odd scraping and whooshing sound that accompanied the TARDIS's materialization and dematerialization sounded around them, and, after a jolt, they landed.

"Where are we, Doctor?" Amy asked.

"Let's find out." The Doctor flipped on the view-screen, bringing into view three people. One of them was a tall, dark, and (Amy thought) handsome man in spite of the grim lines his face held and the shock that showed in his intense blue eyes; he stood a few feet in front of the other two with his gun pulled, pointed almost directly at the view-screen.

"This has got to be America, again," Rory commented. "Does no one else notice that this is the only place so far that we consistently get guns pointed at us the moment we arrive?"

One was a girl, barely into her teenage years, dark haired and scared, her head peeking around the arm of the third member of the trio who stood in front of her as though shielding, her but behind the dark haired man.

The third that stood directly in front of the girl was a well-groomed, spiky-haired, bespectacled man with pale blue eyes wide with fear. Relief quickly replaced the fear behind the spectacles, and the small man nodded as though in thanks.

The Doctor chuckled and ran a gentle hand along the console. "Harold Sparrow. I might have know- "

The Doctor's words were cut off as the TARDIS dematerialized again, spilling its occupants across the floor once more.

The TARDIS touched down once again, but did not roost, and Amy got a brief glimpse of a room filled with books and computer screens before something on the TARDIS console sparked and the view-screen shut off. This time the turbulence was much worse, and even The Doctor was hanging on for dear life rather than trying to do something with the controls.

With a final jarring bump, the TARDIS landed. The Doctor, Amy, and Rory tentatively got to their feet, as though expecting the TARDIS to take off again any minute, but the TARDIS remained quiet and stationary.

"Is there any point in asking where we are?" Rory asked.

"Well, we've officially landed; let's go and see," The Doctor replied, leading the usual mad dash for the TARDIS doors, the other two piling out behind him.

Before them stood the short, spiky-haired man they had seen on the view-screen minutes before, gazing at them with a sort of owlish expectancy.

"Harold," The Doctor's crossed his arms, his tone severe and somewhat peevish, "have you any idea what sort of effect you have on my TARDIS? She rerouted us out of a nice holiday for you."

Silence reigned in the room, the shorter man really not quite sure what to say.

Suddenly the Doctor smiled. "I'm starting to get jealous."

 


	6. Down the Rabbit Hole

**2012**

**4:24 p.m.**

The Doctor's severe façade was broken by a wide smile, and he jumped forward to clasp Finch into a delighted embrace. The Doctor kissed the air on the sides of the highly uncomfortable billionaire's face, then stood back to look at him properly. Despite his worry for Reese and his discomfort at The Doctor's affection, Finch was just as delighted to see The Doctor as The Doctor was to see him and it reflected in his bright eyes and small smile. With that smile, Amy suddenly found herself warming to the small man.

"You've changed your face again," Finch commented to The Doctor, less in shock and more in curiosity.

"Oh, you know how it is; you get bored seeing the same face staring out from the mirror at you every day," The Doctor replied nonchalantly, "it was time for it to go."

"Will you introduce us, Doctor?" Finch prompted, gesturing to the young man and woman.

"Oh, of course! Harold Finch, this is Amy and Rory Pond, my," He paused a moment to savor the word fondly, "associates."

Rory raised a finger as if to protest something, then seemed to change his mind and put it down resignedly.

"The Doctor doesn't always get his names right," Amy interjected, but not to Rory's relief, "he said your name was 'Harold Sparrow.' So is it 'Sparrow,' 'Finch,' or some other bird altogether?"

"Both," Finch inclined his head with a subtle smile, "but you can call me 'Mr. Finch.'"

"Oooh, mysterious  _and_  so formal. Are you a spy or secret agent, Mr. Finch?"

Before Finch could reply (rather to his relief, at least initially), Rory asked, "The TARDIS brought us all the way here because of you? What sort of impression did you make on her?"

"Has she got a crush on you, Harold?" Amy asked teasingly.

"No, Mrs. Pond," A faint hint of starch crept into Finch's polite voice at the repetition of the oft repeated denial, "she does not have a crush on me. We have an 'understanding' of sorts."

The Doctor circled Finch and draped a gentle arm over his shoulder.

"Of  _course_  she's got a crush on you, Harold, and, if I may say so myself, she does have a history - or future - of excellent taste," The Doctor said, adjusting his bowtie with a smile.

Finch decided not to argue the point; the mercurial conversational zigzags were starting to give him something akin to mental whiplash. Every time he met with The Doctor he felt like he took the infamous tumble down rabbit hole in  _Alice in Wonderland_  with the Mad Hatter at his side, not in a bad sense, but it was always slightly disorientating, and the young couple, for their part, seemed to be natural denizens of Wonderland themselves. Of course, when one took the tumble down to Wonderland, eventually one hit bottom - where Wonderland began - and that's where things began to truly become terrifying and strange. At least The Doctor and his companions were familiar with the territory.

The Doctor, as if noticing it for the first time, dashed off and around the room, exclaiming over the variety in terrestrial and non-terrestrial technologies that made up the various screens, machines, panels, keyboards, data banks, and multitudinous buttons.

"So, Harold, what's so important that the TARDIS would whisk us out of the Time Vortex for?" The Doctor chucked some bit of technology over his shoulder and pointed his Sonic Screwdriver at a console.

"Mr. Reese, my associate," Finch added for Amy and Rory's benefit, "disappeared here."

Amy threw The Doctor a questioning look. "The tall, dark, and handsome one, yeah?"

"Amy!" Rory protested uncomfortably. "You do realize I'm standing right here?"

"I always know when a stupid, hot Roman's near me," Amy replied in mock annoyance, throwing him an adoring (if mischievous) look at him and lacing a hand through his.

Finch commented mildly, "I believe the description is not an infrequent one. I suppose I shouldn't ask you how or when you met Mr. Reese?"

"We saw you, both of you-"

"I hope it's nothing to do with someone trying to erase New York pizza from time." The Doctor's head bobbed up above a bank of (what were now) flashing lights. "That would have to be stopped. Imagine New York without its pizza! No. Don't. It's horrible. No one would come here. Well, not 'here,' exactly, of course-"

"Though we seem to come to places like this often enough," Rory interjected dryly.

"It would seem unlikely," Finch replied wryly to The Doctor's facetious question. "I also experienced the anomaly of having a conversation with my future self."

"Nothing too explicit I hope. It's dangerous to know one's own future, and worse, it's dull, dreary, boringness," The Doctor punctuated the word by pressing a button with unnecessary force, "and no fun - like knowing you're going to get the same horrid socks you get every birthday from the same fusty aunt."

"No, I was quite vague," Finch replied.

The Doctor looked as though he were about to reply when a screen came online, one of the glass or crystal ones set atop the banks, the information visible from both sides. The words going up it a strange script that looked nothing like any alphabet on Earth. Inverse to the brightening screen, The Doctor's face became dark and troubled.

"Harold," The Doctor turned to Finch, his voice forcibly cheerful, "The good news is that John has been sucked down a Time Corridor, and is almost definitely somewhere and somewhen. And he's probably made it there safely. Almost definitely."

Finch tensed. Here it was, the floor was rushing up. "And the bad news?"

"This room," The Doctor flung his arms out, encompassing the entire room, "the Time Corridor, was built by the C.I.A."

The sharp shock of hitting the bottom of the rabbit hole stunned Finch, and the confusing and nonsensical maze of Wonderland was suddenly present.


End file.
